


Time to Say Goodbye

by hideeho



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: After Shannon's Death, Angst, Day Six of Eddie Week, Eddie Diaz Week 2020, Found Family, Found family is family, Grief, M/M, Missing Scenes from Season 2, Pre-Relationship, Prompt: Firefam, Supportive Buck, supportive firefam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24822598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideeho/pseuds/hideeho
Summary: It takes him thirty-two hours to realize they’re taking shifts to check in on him.He likes to think on a better day he would have caught on sooner, but it’s going to be awhile before he has one of those again.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 280





	Time to Say Goodbye

It takes him thirty-two hours to realize they’re taking shifts to check in on him. 

Like he’s in the hospital. Like he’s falling apart. Maybe he is. 

He likes to think on a better day he would have caught on sooner, but it’s going to be awhile before he has one of those again. 

Shannon is dead. Shannon is dead and the image of his son’s crestfallen face has been burned into his very soul along with the image of her life leaving her body. 

Her life is now past tense and he can’t quite seem to make his mind process that fact. 

Eddie knows death. He has seen it in the first few moments when the skin is still pink and warm and when the body is waxy and cold in the coffin. He has lost family and friends. Still, this is different. It was bound to be different. 

He’s still fresh off his grief of their broken relationship, the second child that might have been and the life they could have hobbled together. It seems so far away now. A different lifetime ago. 

She deserved so much more than what was given to her. 

“You don’t have to be here for this,” Eddie points out, again, buying himself a few more seconds before opening the door. 

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m here. I wasn’t going to let you do this alone,” Buck insists, _again_ , squeezing his shoulder firmly. Eddie knows he hasn’t been pleasant to be around. He’s too tense, too on edge. His grief is simmering beneath his skin, stretching him too thin. 

Eddie takes a breath, forcing himself into the apartment Shannon called home. If Buck wasn’t standing behind him patient and firm he would have bolted as soon as he entered. He had never been here before. Never asked to. Was too busy figuring how it would work for her to come back into their lives that he hadn’t bothered to learn about what her life was like on her own. It felt wrong to be here now. This wasn’t for him, but there isn’t anyone else. Only distant cousins she was never close to. Contacts in her phone he doesn’t recognize. No, he is still her husband by technicality and he will be the one to put her to rest. 

He avoids the pictures on the walls of people and memories he’ll never know. Avoids the photos of their son from years ago, choking on the guilt that he was the one to deny her new memories for so long. Now it was too late. He hadn’t just robbed her, but he had robbed their son. For what? He had been so sure at the time, hadn’t he? 

He goes to her closet. 

Did she have a favorite outfit? Was there something she would want to spend the rest of her days in? That’s something he should know. Maybe he would have, once, but too many years had passed between them. 

“Eddie?”

The sound of Buck’s voice startles him. He’s not sure how long he has been standing there. Long enough for Buck to say something. “I don’t know what to pick. I don’t know what to bury her in.”

“What’s her favorite color?”

“Yellow.” Or it had been. He thinks maybe it still was. Was yellow too happy? Did it even matter? He pulled out a dress she had worn to take Christopher out for the day. They had a good day that day. Maybe he should pick something with a sweet memory. Or would that sour one of the last good days Christopher had with his mom? He places the dress back. 

“I’ll come back to this. I need to look for some other things first.” A will. A life insurance policy. Some sort of clue as to what she would want. Hell, who he should contact. He’d have to clean out her apartment soon, but he couldn’t think about that now. Not with Chris, and his family coming into town, and Chris, and he still needed to plan the funeral, and he needed to make sure his bereavement leave was approved, and Chris, and make sure the death announcement went out and—

“Okay, we’ll look for the other things,” Buck says gently, a firm palm against his back. The contact grounds him, stills his fraying mind. Eddie looks at him gratefully, giving him a nod as he tries to decide what to tackle first. 

They don’t find a will. They pick out an outfit. They find pictures for the funeral. It’s a start. There is still so much to do. 

Bobby takes the next shift. Maybe he should be annoyed that they clearly think he needs babysitting, but he doesn’t have it in him to fight. 

“You’ve done enough.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Bobby shrugs, plugging the address into his navigation system. 

“I have a fridge full of food that says otherwise.”

“That was all Athena.” A silence settles between them. He can tell Bobby is mulling something over, but he doesn’t press. Doesn’t know if it’s for him to know. “When my family died, people kept bringing me food. I didn’t even have a home at that point. No kitchen. I was staying in some shoddy motel my insurance paid for, but they kept bringing me food I couldn’t heat up. They were trying to help, I know that, but I didn’t want their food.” 

Eddie nods. 

Tries to imagine Bobby’s loss. Two children. A wife that actually loved him. Bobby has been through more than Eddie can ever imagine, but still he’s here. He’s here and Eddie knows there is no point in comparing grief, but he can’t help but feel guilty feeling sorry for himself when he’s in the presence of someone who lost so much more. 

“When is the last time you ate,” Bobby asks. 

He doesn’t know so he doesn’t answer. 

“Eddie—”

“I’ll be fine, Cap. I just need to get through this and I’ll be fine to get back to work.” He knows his spot is not guaranteed. Sure, they’ve accepted him faster than he could have hoped, but he’s still a probie. They can still decide he’s more trouble than he’s worth. 

He can’t afford to be more trouble than he’s worth. 

“I’m not worried about that, Eddie.” He sighs, tightening his grip on his steering wheel. “I’m not going to tell you that it gets easier,” Bobby begins. “I’m not going to tell you that it will be okay. I will say that you’ll survive this. Some days you might not want to, but you will,” Bobby offers. 

Eddie can feel the stinging behind his eyes. Knows if he tries to talk he’ll break, so instead he says nothing. Bobby understands. Eddie’s grateful. 

They arrive at the funeral home and Bobby steps silently behind him; supportive but not intrusive. His parents had offered to come, but he can’t handle their judgment. They had never really liked her. Abuela and Pepa offered, but they hadn’t known Shannon. Chris could pick out the music, the photographs, but he needed to be responsible for the rest. It was the least he could do. 

He knew it would be expensive, but it still comes as a shock as it all starts adding up. He couldn’t find a life insurance policy and without a will there is nothing she has saved up that he can apply towards covering this expense. He tries not to be frustrated with her. She was young, she was supposed to have time, but they had a child and he told her she should have her affairs in order for Christopher. She had never wanted to have these talks. He should have insisted. 

She should have had time. 

He has already tried to make the math make sense, but he doesn’t know how he’s going to do it. Still, what choice does he have? He owes it to her. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to get a double burial plot? That way you can be buried beside her.”

“I’m sure,” he says tensely, knowing he can’t saddle her with his presence for all eternity when she had been done with him. She’ll be happier next to her mother. If Bobby thought anything of it, he didn’t say. 

It’s bad enough she’ll be left with his last name. That she’ll never be able to take the name of someone she truly wanted to be with. Then again, it’s the name she shares with their son. Maybe she’d want it that way. She should be here to decide. 

He’ll have to shuffle things around. Borrow. Beg. He can go without, he’ll make sure Chris doesn’t have to. He’ll just have to take on extra shifts. Maybe see if any of his abuela’s friends need some projects done so he can get some cash on the side. 

It will work. He will make it work. Then he sees the final total with the flowers and he knows he can’t make the math make sense. His face falls. Chris will be disappointed, they’re her favorite flowers, but they’ll have to find something else. 

“What would this be with carnations instead of lilies?” 

“Are you sure, lilies really are so much more‐” 

“Carnations,” Eddie bites, ears flaming with heat, embarrassed to cut corners but not seeing any other choice. 

When the man turns to crunch the new numbers Bobby turns to him, voice low to maintain his privacy. “Get the lilies.”

“I can’t.”

“We passed the boot around for you. Buck made sure everyone got a chance to pitch in. You can get the lilies.” Eddie looks up in surprise. He’s only a probie. They don’t know her. She’s only his wife by default. Why would they do this for him? 

“I can’t.”

“Eddie, we’ve got you. Get the lilies.” 

He gets the lilies. Tries not to think about how they’ll die too. 

By the time it’s Hen’s turn to check in on him he’s burnt. 

Chris has been begging to sleep in his bed every night, crying himself to sleep only to wake himself up with nightmares. He doesn’t have the heart to tell him he needs to sleep in his own bed, not when his son is convinced he’ll be gone when he wakes up. 

Eddie is too exhausted to sleep. He didn’t have many violent nightmares after he got back from Afghanistan, but he’s had enough not to trust himself now. Not when his mind is stretched too thin and Christopher is clinging desperately to his side. So he dozes here and there, jerking himself awake brutally as he continues to go over what he still needs to do. 

“You look rough,” Hen points out, not unkindly. 

“I know.” There is no point in denying it. Dark circles rest heavy under his eyes, looking more like bruises than anything. His parents had taken Christopher to buy him an outfit for the service. His house is quiet, but he still can’t sleep. Can’t shut his brain off long enough to get some relief. 

“Come on, let’s go sit for a bit.”

“I can’t. I need to get groceries and clean up. I still haven’t done laundry this week.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to help you with all of that so it will only take half the time. That means we have time to sit.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Eddie says and wonders when someone will finally believe him.

“When are you going to realize we’re here because we want to be here? It will save you a lot of time and breath.” Hen steers him to the couch. He follows her, too tired to fight. She places a pillow on her lap, pulling him down until his head is resting comfortably. 

They’re friends, but this still feels too personal. Too raw. But her fingers are massaging his scalp, the room is quiet and he’s so terribly tired. 

A few minutes. He can give himself a few minutes. 

He wakes up to water on his face, a damp spot on the pillow. It takes him a minute to realize he’s crying. He’s been trying so hard not to cry. Not willing to spare the time when there was so much to do. 

“It’s okay,” Hen soothes. “Just sleep, Eddie. It’s okay. Just sleep.” She must know he’s awake. Must know he’s crying. She’s giving him an out. It’s the last thing he thinks before he falls back to sleep. 

She doesn’t mention it when he wakes up. Doesn’t mention it when she forces him to eat something Bobby dropped by. Doesn’t mention it as she helps him mime through his list of chores. She doesn’t mention it even as he crushes her in a hug he knows is too tight. 

“ _Thank you._ ” 

“We’ve got you, Eddie. No thanks necessary. The team takes care of their own.” 

By the time Chim asks if he wants to get out for a bit he can’t agree fast enough. 

He loves his family, he does, but the next person that makes a snide comment about Shannon is going to get their head bitten off. 

You’re supposed to be respectful of the dead. Couldn’t they at least give her that? 

“We’re here!”

Eddie suddenly regrets not asking where Chim was taking them. 

“A shooting range?” 

Chim shrugs, already halfway out of the car. “I figured you could let off some steam. If you hate it we can leave.” 

He hasn’t been to a shooting range since he moved to California. Only really gone after he got back from Afghanistan to make sure he still could after he was shot. Had to prove to himself he wouldn’t fall apart around the noise if he was exposed to it again. 

He opts for a M17, turning down the overeager’s clerk suggestion of an AR. He hadn’t gone into the Army out of a love of firearms. He respects their power and their purpose, but there is a violence to them that he has left behind. 

The weight of the gun is familiar in his hands. He places the ear plugs over his ears, the world around him falling back for a bit. He slides into an easy rhythm, loading bullets into the chamber, cocking the hammer, aiming, pulling the trigger, feeling the push against his arms as the bullet releases and repeating the process. 

How many countless hours had he done this? Over and over until he could be counted on in a fight. 

Eddie has never been one for meditation, but as he falls into a rhythm he can’t help but think that this is what it must be like. For a brief moment in time his thoughts are suspended. He’s alone in his actions. By the time their hour is done his thumb burns, long out of practice of loading bullets over and over again. 

“How the hell do you blow out the middle of the targets?”

“You hit it,” Eddie responds dryly, unable to keep from grinning at Chim’s unimpressed expression. 

“Funny. Real funny. I forget you have jokes. Come on, we need food.” 

“I should be getting back,” Eddie states, his words lacking any real conviction. 

“Food first, I insist.” 

He doesn’t realize how hungry he is until he starts eating, finishing his burger in a few large bites. Chim hands him a second one and he wonders how he knew to order extra. 

“I had a brother,” Chim starts and suddenly Eddie finds it hard to chew. “Not by blood, but in all the ways that mattered. He died on the job saving someone else. A real hero.”

Eddie didn’t know that. 

“I was so mad at him. Easier than feeling guilty, I guess. I didn’t know how to be anything else. I just...I needed an outlet. Something to take my mind off things. Someone suggested the shooting range. I’m not really one for guns, but it worked. For a bit. Thought it might help you.”

“It did.” Didn’t hurt, anyway. 

“I’m really sorry about Shannon, Eddie. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” Eddie can hear the guilt in Chim’s voice. Doesn’t know how to explain that all the guilt rests with him. 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

“If you need anything, seriously, _anything_ —”

“I know, Chim,” he says simply, handing him another burger. “I know.”

And he does, even if he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve it. 

“I’m really sorry about your brother,” Eddie adds. Chim just nods, leaving them to sit with the memories of the ones they had lost. 

Shannon died on a Tuesday. They’re burying her on a Saturday. 

It’s pretty out. It usually is in California. He’s glad. She never liked the rain. 

He looks at himself in the mirror. Tries to figure out if he’s the widow or the ex. Whether it even matters. 

He rubs a hand against his face roughly, knowing he needs to go check in on Chris. He will get him through this. He will be strong. One more day, then every day after that. 

He walks down the hall, pausing briefly as he hears the sound of talking inside his son’s room. 

“Buck, I’m worried.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m worried I won’t be strong enough. Not like daddy.”

“Hey, buddy, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. Nothing is going to change that.”

“What if I cry? My grandpa says it’s important that I be strong. That real men don’t cry over things they can’t change. I don’t want to let dad down.” 

Eddie sees red, nails digging crescent moons into the palm of his hands. He feels the rage rip through him like a hot iron. He knows that speech. Has been told that speech. That’s not how he is raising his son. Christopher is not going to spend his life unlearning lessons he never should have been taught. 

His father had no right. His father—

“I think...I think your grandfather means well,” Buck says slowly. “But, I think sometimes it takes strength to cry. To show emotion.” 

“Do you cry?”

“Oh, _all_ the time.”

“Really,” Chris asks, so hopefully it twists his heart in his chest. 

“Really! Ask your dad. I cry over reunion videos on YouTube. I cry at humane society commercials. I cry all the time and I think I’m pretty strong.” 

“Have you seen daddy cry?”

Eddie enters the room, cutting off whatever Buck might have been about to say. 

“Hey there, buddy. Let me see you,” he says, walking over to kneel in front of Christopher. He’s in his new suit. His new suit to bury his mother. It looks good on him, but he shouldn’t have to wear it. He wants nothing more than to burn it. “It looks good on you, mijo. Real good. You ready to go?”

Chris looks like he wants to say no, but instead he nods. His brave boy. Eddie picks him up, holds him close and buries his face in his curls. He pulls back, turning to face Buck who has a look on his face he can’t quite place. “Thanks for driving us, Buck.”

 _Thank you for everything. For being there since it happened. For knowing what to say._

“Of course.” Like it wasn’t even a question, because for Buck it wasn’t. 

It would be so easy to love him. Impossible not to, really. 

They survived the visitation the day before. Survived the steady stream of people who were important to her that he had no idea even existed. He thought somehow it would someone make today more bearable. It didn’t. 

He feels like a fraud standing at the front during the service. She didn’t want him. He’s there for Christopher. He’s there for the love he still has for her. He’s there for the love he once had for her. That has to be enough. 

He feels numb. 

Christopher is sniffling behind his glasses, trying so hard not to cry and it breaks his heart. “It’s okay to cry, buddy,” he assures him, catching Buck’s eye as he does. “I’m sad too. You cry as much as you need to.” His father looks like he might make a comment, but he stands his ground, holds Christopher to him as his boy gently sobs. 

He finds himself gravitating towards the 118. It feels safer by them. He breathes a little easier. 

It’s hot when they arrive at the cemetery. The hole is deep, the tractor lurking in the distance waiting for them to leave to bury her inside. 

It feels like abandoning her again. It makes no sense, but it’s true all the same. 

Everyone is dispersing. They’re supposed to go back to abuela’s church. Her prayer group is hosting a meal. Shannon was never big on churches, but this part was for family. That’s what everyone said. 

“Eddie, Christopher, it’s time to get going,” his mother says, going to reach for Christopher’s hand even as he pulls away. 

“Just a little bit longer,” Christopher asks, eyes wide beneath his glasses as he gripped his hand tightly. 

“As long as you want,” Eddie promises him, lifting him up and out of his mother’s reach. 

“People are hungry. We can’t leave our guests waiting, Edmundo,” his father chastises.

“Let them eat. We’ll get there when we do.”

“Edmundo,” his father continues and he can hear the disappointment, knows he’s failing some test he didn’t know he was taking. “Your abuela is in the car. It’s hot. We’re going.”

“I’ll drive them.” Buck. Eddie releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Buck steps to his side, his long arm pressed firmly against his own as if saying _I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay, I’m here._ “It’s not a problem.” 

His mother makes a face, not appreciating a stranger stepping in. “That’s very...kind, but it’s time to go. There is nothing else to do here.” 

“I’d actually like to pay my respects a little longer,” Bobby interjects, coming to stand on the other side of him. 

“Me too,” Hen states. 

“And me,” Chim adds.

Before either of his parents can say another word Chim and Hen have joined in flanking him. A human shield. 

His parents retreat. 

He grips Buck’s hand in thanks. Buck doesn’t pull away so Eddie doesn’t let him go. 

They don’t rush them. They simply stand guard. 

The team takes care of their own. 

It doesn’t matter that he’s on probation. They’ve accepted him. He’s their family as much as they’re his. He belongs. 

He cries. He cries for the woman they’re burying. He cries for the happy life she should have had. He cries for the child in his arms. He cries because for the first time in ninety-eight hours he knows there is someone there to catch him. 

It took a whole lot of running, but he has finally found his home. 

He only wishes she had been given a chance to find hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Clearly I'm still not over how they fridged Shannon and then ignored it until season 3 so here we go. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated! Feel free to say hi on [tumblr!](agentlemuse.tumblr.com)


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